


Coffee Shop Soundtrack

by im_an_octopus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, I like big tropes and I cannot lie, M/M, Tropes, every cliche in the book, i love tropes and so do you don’t lie, the coffeeshop au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 13:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_an_octopus/pseuds/im_an_octopus
Summary: A thunderstorm traps you in a coffee shop with the God of Mischief, himself.





	Coffee Shop Soundtrack

His hand enveloped yours, and you froze.

It was a light feeling. A delicate touch that left your stomach tied in knots and your body tingling from adrenaline. The tips of his fingers rested over your knuckles, and stayed still, even as you twitched. It was an oddly intimate feeling, something extraordinarily gentle and human, which was the last thing you expected from someone like him. But it was nice. And you were losing yourself in your own fantasies. Your entire life had apparently been leading up to this moment, and you—

“May I have my coffee, please?”

You blinked as your brain caught up to speed on the current situation. Somehow the star-struck mix of shock and fear masqueraded as something romantic. This wasn’t love. It was just the feeling of being in the presence of a god.

“Sorry, yeah,” you released the cup and carefully snaked your hand back.

The look of calm remained on his face as he sighed heavily and muttered a brisk thank you, then walked away before you had the chance to return the pleasantry. You almost laughed at how ridiculous it was to think that you’d be able to say anything, anyways. You’d become something of a fish out of water; mouth awkwardly gaping as you gasped for air. Or words. Both were lost to you, regardless.

To your surprise, he took a seat in the back corner, rather than leaving. A bold move, seeing as he was hated by most of the general public for the stunts he pulled in New York a few years back. What was he doing back on Earth, anyways?

You got your answer as he pulled out a book.

Reading. Loki, god of mischief, brother of Thor, was sitting in a Starbucks, reading. And not one person seemed to care…not that there was even anyone around to notice.

Running your hand down your face, you checked your watch. It was almost 1am, and the skies were cloudy. The weather channel had been warning your area of a massive storm for nearly a week, and it was bound to start soon. High winds. Flash floods. The whole kit and caboodle. But your rent was due in a few weeks, and you were going to pay it, even if it meant drowning in sewer water and coffee. 

There was something surreal about being in a Starbucks during ridiculous hours of the night. Time seemed to slow, and despite the soft music in the background, there was a sort of silence that made you feel like you were teetering on the border of your dimension and a hazy dream. You could see the city lights outside your window, and if you squinted enough, Lake Michigan would appear on the horizon. There were always cars, even if they were few and far in between. There were always customers, too, who wandered in with the same frequency as the cars. Maybe fewer. And they all wanted the same thing: a large black coffee. These were not the type of people to use fancy words like venti, or ask for frilly drinks. They kept to themselves. They just wanted to get their caffeine fix and move on.

“Won’t one of your contraptions boil over and explode if you don’t pay closer attention?” He asked suddenly. 

“Uh, no,” you mumbled, feeling embarrassed that he caught you staring. You took a quick glance around your station, anyways, just to be safe.

He made a small, disinterested noise in response, as he licked his thumb and turned the page. The silence between you was now very awkward. At least on your end.

Looking for a way to busy yourself, you went to fumble with the music. It was one of the perks of working late hours: you were freed from the usual playlist of the same dozen songs. As long as you kept the volume soft and switched things back by the time your shift ended, you could listen to anything. Tonight, you opted for something relaxing, but with a steady tempo—the sort of thing that was good to clean to—and grabbed a mop.

Outside, you could hear rain begin hitting the pavement. Thunder rumbled in the distance and you cringed. You hated storms—or at least the noisy ones.

“I don’t care much for them, either.”

You clutched the handle of the mop and forced a smile. “I didn’t know you could read minds, too.”

“I can read frightened humans clutching brooms.”

“It’s…a mop…” A weak counter, but you were trying to process the fact that he’d so casually called you a human. The word rolled off his tongue as if he was speaking to a pet.

“I’m sorry. A mop,” he quipped and closed his book.

You ran your thumb over the grain of the handle. “So can you call your brother and ask him to lay off the thunder?”

“This is nature, not my brother,” he looked out the window and something bittersweet crossed his features. “He likes to put on a much bigger spectacle—“

“Are you actually him?” You blurted. “Are you actually Loki? Or are you just one of those assholes that resembles a celebrity and just rolls with it when people mistake you for the real deal so you can laugh about it later?”

“I’m a celebrity?”

“I can’t think of a better word. Villain sounds too comic book-y.”

“And would you be afraid if I was him?”

“No.” You straightened yourself out, and latched onto the thread of hope that maybe he wasn’t the ethereal being you’d mistaken him for. Maybe he was just some weirdo. In which case, you had pepper spray in your back pocket if things got out of hand. “Loki wouldn’t be stupid enough to come back here. And even if he was, he wouldn’t pick Chicago to hide out in. Not when it’s so close to his last fuckup.”

“You make some excellent points,” he chuckled. “But you’re a bit off the mark.”

In a swift motion he held his hand up, and a thin piece of metal materialized in a flash of green light. Without a second thought, he tucked it between the pages of his book, and shut it.

“That was…so…extra.”

For a moment he seemed taken aback; disappointed that this human wasn’t falling down, shocked and impressed and maybe a bit fearful of his power. But he had to remind himself that this wasn’t why he was here. This wasn’t why he was in this form. This wasn’t why the storm raged so violently outside.

“I’ve been called many things, but extra is not one of them.”

***

Four cups of coffee later, and you were seated across from him, laughing as if you’d known each other for years. He told you about his brother. His sister. His father. His mother. His home. He asked you about the music you played, and why someone like you was in a place like this, and what your aspirations were; a reminder that questions like those used to be genuine before the douche bags of the world got hold of them. 

He made little trinkets disappear and reappear, at your wide-eyed requests. In turn, you showed him how to draw hearts and swirls in latte foam. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as what he could do, but from the way he seemed so enamored by your words, one wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

You were hunched over, forming the outline of a cat when a particularly loud crack of lighting rattled the windows. Startled, you dropped your utensil into the mug, and cursed.

“Dammit. That was the best one I’d ever done.”

‘You could always try again,” he replied, waving his hand fluidly over the mug to make the foam flat and white once more.

Pursing your lips together, you stared at the coffee, and then looked up to meet his eyes.

“Why are you here? Why sit in a shitty coffee shop in Chicago when you could be literally anywhere else in the world?”

“Because,” he laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table, “I made a promise to my brother and his wizard friend that I’d remain within a certain radius of them. This city is as far away as I could get without breaking that promise.” 

“And this specific place?”

“I came in here by chance, saw something I liked, and decided to stay,” there was a sort of sheepish tone to his voice.

“Well…I’m glad you did. And if you’d like, maybe I could show you around a little. It’s a great city.”

“I’d very much like that.”

His lips were soft against yours as he leaned in to kiss you, and his skin was cool to the touch. It had a magnetic quality to it that drew you in deeper and deeper, until you kissed him with such fervor that you thought you might drown in him. Outside, the storm started to subside; a coincidence that made the moment all the more poetic. Lord help you if this didn’t work out in the end, because you knew that nobody on this Earth could ever kiss you like that.

***

For the first time in a long time, Loki was feeling good. Truly, honestly, purely, good. The sun was just coming up, and already the streets were filled with sleepy drivers yawning the whole way to work. Perhaps if he was alone any longer, then an actual bounce would’ve worked its way into his step, but his moment was rudely interrupted.

“So how did it go, brother?”

He choked on his coffee and looked to the side. There was Thor, chipper as ever, with a mischievous smile on his face. This was one in only a handful of times that he’d ever managed to sneak up on Loki, and he was sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Come now, brother,” Thor scoffed, matching his pace. “We could do this all day. You being coy and stupid; me, feigning naivety. Back and forth, back and forth, stupid and naïve, stupid and naïve,” Thor slung his arm over Loki as he spoke, “But in the end, I think we’re just postponing the inevitable.”

“And what might that be?”

“That in 1500 years, you still can’t get a date. Not even with my help—”

“Oh, were those sparkles outside yours?” Loki halted and shook his brother’s arm off his shoulders.

Thor narrowed his eyes. Months later and the Grandmaster’s pet name was still a sore spot. Loki could only hope it’d stay that way for at least another thousand years or so. There was just so much fun to be had with it.

“I try to help you, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Terrifying the poor thing with a storm is not help.”

Thor huffed and crossed his arms, clearly offended.

“I only meant to encourage closeness—“

“Loki!”

Both men turned at the sound of your voice as you jogged towards them. There was a brief falter in your steps as you realized Thor was there. He was nearly unrecognizable from behind after his apparent haircut. You cleared your throat, awkwardly.

“Hey, you forgot your book…”

“Did I? Ah, well thank you,” he replied lightly and took it from your outstretched hand.

“No problem. I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Yes. And I suspect the weather will be much nicer,” Loki shot a sideways glance at his companion.

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then,” you smiled and gave a small wave as you walked away, feeling very proud of yourself for keeping your composure.

As you turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Loki drummed his fingers against the cover of the book. A content grin crossed his features.

“See, brother? I didn’t need your sparkles, after all.”


End file.
